Project Ragnarok
by okami009
Summary: Matthew the Sniper picks up a a simple job, hoping to get himself out of the gutter. However, he soon discovers a plot that could threaten the Earth, and when all hope seems lost, he realizes that his greatest allies are his worst enemies.
1. Chapter 1

Matthew was seriously starting to pity himself.

And yet, here he was, driving down the road to a train station in the middle of nowhere that would produce a train from the middle of nowhere and would ultimately lead him to—you guessed it—the middle of nowhere. He gave a lonesome sigh as he took the next left, not bothering to look the other way for any incoming traffic.

Normally he would find excitement in traveling outdoors, not a lot of excitement, but to anyone that really knew him (not many) would be able to discern that a small smirk that came from Matthew would be the equivalent to, say, a hysteric football fanatic whose team just won the super bowl after 50 years of being unable to win a single game. Matthew was patient, calm, cunning, and quiet. But this was harbored from his line of work, which required such qualities that ended up being his profession. Matthew used to work as an accountant for a PMC. Not a particularly exciting life, but respectable and the pay was decent. His parents didn't particularly like the thought of him counting money for people who killed for a living, but he consistently told them that he was only counting and not killing, so they warily let him slide, but not without a few arguments every time he came over to visit.

Though he was not a taker of human life, he still found himself an interest in hunting. Not long after he joined the company did a co-worker of his asked him out for a small hunting trip over the weekend. Not wanting to seem cowardly or dull, he decided to go along for the trip. So he and two others drove to a remote part of the outback and got out their gear. Matthew was given a Sako 75 rifle for the occasion. He had never actually held a gun before, so the weapon looked deadly even though other people may not put the gun on their top-ten list. The three of them hiked across the fields, each taking a shot at a few prarie dogs that popped up here and there, until the trio came across a certain particular challenge; a kangaroo.

Matthew didn't particularly like kangaroos. They tended to jump out in the middle of the road a lot while he was driving. If you think I'm wrong and think kangaroos are cute and should be protected, then you can go happily burn in hell, because I don't want to hear any of it.

The challenge posed was that the marsupials were posed at least 500 meters away. None of them had a rifle which carried enough kick to travel that far, so they decided to turn around and find another animal to hunt. However, when they turned to go, Matthew stood rooted to the spot, eyes fixed upon the animal. One of his friends told him it was a hopeless fight, the marsupials were too far away, and they would never get close enough without the creatures being alerted of their presence. Matthew ignored him and set himself down into a crouched position, bringing up the scope to his eyes. "I've got twenty that says I could put one right between 'er eyes." Matthew said quietly while still focusing on the kangaroo. His two friends looked at each other and smirked. There was no way he could make a shot like that. "I'll raise you another twenty, no, forty." The two men held devilish grins as they were about to make the easiest sixty bucks, well, thirty each.

Matthew held his breath, then positioned the crosshairs of his scope onto the animal's head, just above it's nose. Time seemed to slow down as he steadied his rifle and pulled the trigger. The rifle made a loud crack as it sent the piece of lead zooming through the air where it eventually connected with the animal's head, right between the eyes. The bullet's impact shook the creature's body as it then collapsed to the ground.

Matthew grinned as he lowered the gun and stood up. He turned around to see two mouths gaping at him in utter astonishment. He gave the two of them a pat on the back and reminded them both of the sixty bucks they now owed him as he marched off to collect his trophy.

His two colleagues returned to the company with the tale of his amazing marksmanship. One thing led to another and he eventually became a contracted assassin to the company. Being realized as a superior-ranked marksman, he quickly rose the ranks to become the most renowned and feared assassin in the company. He would often be sent on missions which required him to sit in wait for weeks on end until he finally found his mark and bagged another one. He also personally bought a Mosin-Nagant rifle, specifically designed for hunting. He still liked the thought of hunting in the outback even when sitting in the same place for hours. Though his parents now resented him for becoming a "crazed gunman", he quickly found out to overcome the argument with a few thousand dollars.

Ah yes, now THAT was why he was here, Matthew thought to himself as he pulled his van up to the old train-station. With the end of the war came along the end of his company, without any wars or battles to be fought, the PMC eventually collapsed upon itself and the hunter now found himself without a job. He picked up a few freelance jobs from some random people, but he didn't find an actual employer and was left to pick up almost any job he could, which ranged from a janitor to a telemarketer. Yet, he still found himself traveling back to the wilderness to take potshots at anything that seemed worthy of mounting on his wall.

Matthew received a letter a few days ago from some company calling themselves "RED". The letter told him of some sort of war that was going on that required his particular "skills". He didn't care so much for what he was doing as he did for the four-digit number that explained his weekly payroll. The letter didn't give him a return-address, but told him that if he accepted the job, he was to meet at a certain place at a certain time.

Which happens to be here and now, the ex-assassin thought to himself. He locked his van and strode into the abandoned building. He found himself on an open-air platform which stretched around the corner of a mountain. He looked both ways to find that the rails curved around the mountain, blocking his view of the train that was yet to come. He checked his watch. Any minute now. He sat down on the ground and started to fall asleep.

The rendezvous time had caused him to wake up extremely early, early enough so that the sun wasn't even out. Just before he dozed off, the faint sound of an engine caught his ear. He was used to finding changes in the environment, which led him to not only be an accurate hunter, but an adaptable one as well. As the sound got closer, a faint light along came into view the railroad came into view just around the mountain. The light turned into a train as it finally pulled up into the station, and Matthew got up and dusted himself off as the locomotive stopped in front of him. The side door opened and a man wearing a hard-hat and overalls slowly appeared before Matthew. The man also wore goggles and a worker's glove on his right hand, and he had a certain air of wisdom about him.

"You wouldn't happen to be Matthew Jones, would you?" said the man in a strange accent. Where had Matthew heard that before? Ah, yes, from those movies about the cowboys in the old west. So this man must come from the states.

"yeah, that'd me" replied a very tired Matthew.

The man from the train grew a grin across his face. "And I assume ya'll be our new sharpshooter?"

"me, again." He really just wanted some sleep.

The man stepped aside and offered the doorway to his guest. "name's Jeremy, but most people just call me the engineer"


	2. Chapter 2

Just an FYI, I'm switching Matthew to the BLU team from here on out for multiple reasons. Most of those which I will point out as they come along.

Sorry this chapter's reeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaallly short. I need time for character development. I promise things will pick up soon!!!

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Matthew found the hospitality of his new friend to be quite good, despite his beliefs on the Engineer's stereotype and the fact that they were in a train of all things. The wood floor was nice and polished, the walls were well-kept with intricate designs of cattle and fields of corn, and the long benches running at the sides of the train were made of high-quality leather.

"So, you're our new sniper, eh?"

Jeffery had moved to the front of the train which confined a large blue computer screen with countless streams of data pouring in from multiple sensors around the train to detect any anomaly which may or may not harm the train.

"That's what the letter told me, mate," said a tired Matthew as he laid across one of the benches and put his hat over his face, "though I'm slightly disappointed. I'm an assassin, not some crazed gunman. This is the work of some loony mercenary, not a professional like myself."

The hard-hatted man simply chuckled to himself. "Son, none of us like it. But with the end of the war came with the end of most of our jobs. I myself was an engineer for G.R.I.D. before the company caved in.

The sniper looked up at him. "That big missile company?"

"Yup, actually I used to be the chief engineer. I was almost finished with my plans for a new portable automatic turret device when the company gave me the boot. Guess they didn't care much for defending as attacking." Jeffery stared at the ceiling for some time with a nostalgic look on his face. "Well, that's old news now. How about you? What made you end up in this heap of trouble?"

Matthew explained his tale to the engineer. Most people wouldn't care for the Australian's problems, and would usually ignore him. But this time, the sniper had to give the engineer some graditude. The American gave Matthew an interested look throughout the explanation of his tale, even giving a few remarks to convince the sniper that he was listening. He was a patient and calm man, which probably went along with his patience to construct weapons of mass destruction. Matthew had, for all of the time in his life, found someone quiet, calm, and collected, much like himself. He had found a counterpart.

He had found a friend.

"Well, I hope you're ready to put those eyes to good use soon, because you're going to need them," Concluded Jeffery at the end of the sniper's story. "You're the last person on the team we need to complete the nine-man army. We never make an assault without at least one person to fill each slot."

Matthew gave him a curious look. "There are others?"

"Of course, this little war of ours has actually been going on for some time now. We need people with certain skills to be able to do certain things. We need people to scout, bomb, rocket, construct, heal, spy and snipe. Just be careful, some of the others have…conflicting personalities. Well, here we are."

The train slowed to a stop as the engineer open up the door. "Welcome to the war, partner."


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you thank you thank you SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO much for your support! (all three of you ^^; ) you've persuaded me to continue on with this story which I hope will continue on until I can finally pull out an appropriate ending point!

Well, anyway, here's chapter three!

(I don't own anything of or relating to team fortress 2. Any and all terms and/or phrases relating to it belong to Valve)

There were eight of them total. Five of them stood in a line in the center of the intel room awaiting orders, while the three not standing were otherwise occupying themselves in various ways.

One of them stood in a corner with his arms crossed with a look of impatience in his eyes, though Matthew couldn't _really_ see what his eyes were saying under that helmet. He had two hand grenades strapped to his chest, as though the man were ready to fight anything, but Matthew say that only the Engineer was allowed to carry weapons into the intel, so he presumed they were simply duds.

Another was tapping his foot and standing by the hallway, and there was something…sinister around him. Sure, he showed Matthew to his quarters, and led him to the intel room to await further instructions, but there was still something he just couldn't shake off was wrong about the man. Maybe it was the blood stains on his coat and gloves, or maybe it was the glasses with one broken lense. The sharpshooter dismissed it, unsure if he'll ever know.

The last one was none other than Jeffery, who was checking up on what seemed to be a rotating machine that turned left and right, as though searching for something. It was rather obvious that it was searching for enemies by the two minigun barrels and rocket laucher that it was protruding.

The other four standing were also an odd bunch. Matthew leaned over to his left to get a good look at the others. To his direct left was a man who desperately needed a shower, though the Aussie didn't need to look to tell that. He was wearing a black bandanna and an eyepatch, probably from doing something while drunk, thought the sniper.

One more down was a young looking boy, probably not even half Matthew's age. The kid had a cocky look about him and held his metal bat over his shoulder. _He's not honestly gonna fight with THAT is he???_ Though his answer was quickly answered as the boy pulled out a scattergun and proceeded to inspect it.

The man to his left simply oozed intimidation, being a head and shoulders taller than most average men will do that. His hands were also massive, though he seemed slightly less intimidating as he was loudly munching on a sandwich.

The last man was the most curious of all, since the assassin was not completely sure whether it was a man or not. The person was wearing a flame-retardant suit with rubber gloves and boots, but it's face was completely hidden behind the black mask, which only allowed the onlooker the sight of two beady black holes staring directly at him. The image was rather frightening, not really sure if the face behind that mask was giving you a death stare or an assuring look, and especially since you were only able to look at one facial expression the whole time.

"Gentlemen," Matthew whipped around to find a man in a pinstripe suit and ski mask standing before him while switching cigarettes out of his case. From the way he talked, he was obviously French, and the professional subconsciously brought up mad memories he had with the French. He felt like beating the prick to a bloody pulp, but that wouldn't look good on his resume, so he simply gave the man a pissed-off look.

"HOLY CRAP!!!" the young boy had jumped into the arms of the giant out of fear. After a moment of silence, the kid was dropped to the floor with a dull _thud!_ Then the monster continued eating his sandwich as though nothing happened.

The Frenchmen walked over to the briefcase on the table and as soon as he punched the first digit into the electronic lock he was yelled at by the soldier in the corner. "YOU MAGGOT!!! WHAT THE HELL TOOK YOU SO GODDAMN LONG??? YOU OUTTA BE COURT MARTIALED!!!" he was screaming almost directly into Matthew's ears, and so he ended up covering his ears in pain, but by the end of the yelling Matt's ears still rung.

Frenchmen didn't even look up and continued to enter the code onto the case. "I vas busy sleeping vith your Mother, now be quiet." There seemed to be some authority to the mysterious man as the helmeted fighter grumbled and slunk back into his corner.

The case popped open and the smoker pulled out a folder, which he walked over and handed to the man in the lab coat.

Examination of their records was done by the leader, but medical checks were done by the medicinal officer, in this case, the medic. He strolled over to Matthew's end of the line and begun walking down. Matthew was slightly disappointed when his medical file was barely given a glace, and sent to the bottom of the pile as the doctor moved on.

The drunk was greeted with a severe disapproving look as his file was scanned down at the bottom of the paper, where the list of medical conditions existed. The file was moved down with a look of disgust.

Matthew didn't feel as bad when the young boy was hardly given much of a glance either, though he looked upset that the medic didn't even look at his amazing 100 yard sprint time.

The mountain was given an approving look by the doctor as he scanned the paper while nodding and at the end gave the giant a quick nod.

The medic's examination stopped dead in its tracks as he got to the rubber-man. The medic constantly looked over the thing's medical file but always turned up with a confused frown.

"hzz thrr ha hrrblm?" mumbled the figure with a tilt of its head.

"nein, nein. But…" It was then that Matthew discovered the doctor was German. "All ov your medical recordz are acceptable, though I lack a photo of you. Do you have von on hand?" the doctor eagerly reached out his hand.

The person behind the rubber sighed and reached into his back pocket where he pulled out a folded piece of paper, presumably a photo of himself. The medic unfolded it and did a double-take, taking a few seconds to clean out his glasses. His eyes widened as he finally understood that the photo he was looking at was real.

He looked at the thing.

Then the photo.

Then the thing.

Then the photo.

He quickly put the photo into the folder and put it back into the case without saying a word. The European raised an eyebrow at him but dismissed it as one of the many secrets that plagued the doctor.

"Gentlemen," the smoker began, "As you know, you have all been hired for your specific, 'talents'." He took a long drag and chuckled a little. "You have skills like no ozzer man has, specifically, skills zat separate you from common, peaceful society. For zis reason, we have found you overqualified to fight for us, Reliable Excavation and Demolition. Ozzerwise known as RED." He took another long drag before continuing. "But before we continue, I need to make sure you know a few rules. Un, you are not allowed to contact anyone else outside zis base. Zose people may be used to weed out information about us that could very well threaten our success in zis war! Deux, Never go outside zis base after dark. In case you wish to know why, then we won't be bringing your corpse back to ze base. And trios, never, ever, _ever, ever, __**EVER**_ open zis briefcase!!!" He slammed down on the desk next to it. "It contains information zat is vital to our operation. It contains engineer's blueprints, my disguise kits, your medical records, history files, attack plans, escape routes, EVERYZINK! If you even so much as _think,_ about opening zis case. Zen I am authorized by my superior to eliminate you myself."

The room was dead silent, save for the clicking noise of the frenchie flicking his used cigarette and lighting another one.

His face suddenly turned to a devious grin, as though he knew that he was better than you. "Well, shall we?" He walked past the five men and continued to walk for a brief period of time when he stopped dead in his tracks. He turned around with a curious look. "Go on, introduce yourselves, your name, job, skills, habits, whatever. Starting with you on the left."

Matthew stepped forward and tipped his hat. "G'day mates. Nam—" He was abruptly interrupted by the man with the helmet yelling in his face yet again. "BZZZZZZZZZT!!!!!! WRONG! YOUR NAME FROM THIS DAY FORWARD IS SUSAN! YOU WANNA GET YOUR NAME BACK?!?! WELL YOU GOTTA EARN IT! KILL THE BLUS AND TAKE BACK YOUR NAME FROM THOSE SISSY BLU LAD—" His own speech was interrupted was he fell face first into the ground. "Ach, zat man needs therapy." Said the german with annoyance as he threw out the syringe he used to sedate the psycho. "You know he already has, partner." Jeffery spoke up for the first time in a while.

The doc nodded in approval, "but I agree zat I'm not too fond of long introductions. I say you all just tell us your name and job. Then we can move on, ja?" the other two nodded in agreement. The insane one was unavailable for comment.

"Matthew Johannes. Precision elimination."

"Gary O'Connor. Demolitons expert."

"Jack Wilder. Reconnaissance."

"Marko Arkadeyavich. Heavy Weapons Guy."

"Phhrotknhhks"

Everyone turned to stare at the thing who hadn't given anyone his name. "what the hell? What's your name ya frickin' wuss?" the thing ignored the taunting boy. The doc finally stepped in and pushed Jack off. "ah, let's just call him 'Pyro' for now." Jack was rather curious as to why the doc was so protective of the thing's identity, but put that mystery under, 'things to be solved later'.

"I zee zat ve are all introduced, so we shall introduce ourselves. My name is Wolfgang von Hamburg, und I am ze field medic." He nodded to Jeffery.

"Name's Jeffery Smith. I'm the engineer, but you can all call me engie." He continued on with the tune-up of his creation. "No one knows what the name of the one kissing the ground is, so we all call him sarge, since he responds best to that name, and he specializes in ballistics."

Last but not least was the Frenchie, who grew a rather smug look on his face. "I am Jean-Piearre Merril, and I am the espionage operative as well as the team's leader."

"yeah right, a frickin' wuss like you wouldn't last ten seconds with me!" The scout was saying rather obnoxiously.

"Oh? You really think so?" He pulled out his cigarette case yet again, though this time he fiddled around with something on the right side of the case before closing it shut and hiding it away again. A cloud of smoke enveloped Jean for a few seconds. But when the smoke disappeared, the spy was gone while a mirror image of Jack stood before him.

"Yo, what's up meathead?" said the spy in a perfect Boston accent.

"WHAT THE---?" Jack stumbled back, tripping over a cable and sent crashing into the ground. The spy removed his mask while snorting and laughing at the scout. "I can't believe what a fool you--!!"

"_ATTENTION!"_ said a raspy female voice over the intercom. _"Mission begins in five minutes! Prepare yourselves!"_ and the com shut off.

"well," said the spy in a cool tone, "we get to see what you can really do now."


	4. Chapter 4

Yeah, I know, it's been a while. But I just got into the swing of school, had a few major projects, joined a robotics club, etc. Plus the plot ideas I've been having for this comic have been more schizophrenic than I thought. Every now and then I'll get an idea, but it simply wouldn't work until much much MUCH later in the story.

And now that I look back on it, my last chapter didn't come out as good as I would have liked, but oh well. Gotta keep this train rollin'~~~

Disclaimer: I don't own TF2 or anything related to it. It's all from Valve. Go bother them.

The nine of them marched down the corridor and up a spiraling hallway into what seemed like a barn of some sort. A room off to the left quickly led to a trapdoor, though someone obviously forgot that a trapdoor had a "door" and simply left it as a hole in the middle of the floor. To their left they saw three passages that led into three separate areas. The left one opened up into a courtyard with a balcony that led to another barn across the yard. This barn held a downwards staircase, and probably went down into the intel room they just came out of. To the right was a short hallway that made a sharp 90-degree turn to the right with a sign over it that said "Battlements". And finally, between the two was a garage door, with a sign above it saying "Resupply".

The nine mercenaries marched inside of the remarkably-clean room. To their left and right stood nine wooden cabinets, each with a different person's name on it. Matthew found his, and right underneath the piece of tape which had his name on it was a small plaque which was emblazoned with one word.

"Sniper"

It was an odd feeling, but was ultimately a satisfying feeling. Mathew was the sniper. The patient killer. The head-shooter. The Marksman. It was nice to know that there wasn't anyone else on the team with an eye like his.

Inside of the cabinet was a rifle propped up against the side. The weapon was not that different from his own, which Matthew was thankful for. The only difference being that the scope was slightly larger and it shot out a laser when he flicked a switch on the side. The Cabinet also contained a red shirt with crosshairs on the arms to signify that he was the team's hawkeye, and SMG, and a kukri. The Australian studied the knife, which was in pretty good condition, save for a few chips on the blade and a blood stain on the hilt. He'd have to remember to fix that.

Matthew turned around when he heard a low rumbling behind him. The source of the sound turned out to be the Heavy Weapons Guy, who was chuckling to himself at the size of Matthew's gun. "Ha, you think you can kill tiny cowards with tiny gun?" Matthew raised an eyebrow, then realized that he was making fun of his gun. "Hey, this thing's a lot more powerful than yah think!" Heavy continued to chuckle to himself. "That is baby gun for baby person! Now THIS…" Heavy hefted out his own gun, "…is real gun!". Now Matthew finally understood why he was called Heavy Weapons Guy. It wasn't just because he was…well…heavy, but because of the heavy weapons he held.

The gun held in Heavy's hands was a masterpiece of engineering. Six barrels rotated with each other and were held together at the end by a cylinder. The barrels connected to a large, white drum which held the ammunition, as well as the firing system for the weapon. The gun was adorned with a handle just above the firing system, and another handle behind it which was pulled backwards to activate the machine. She was a monster, she was a masterpiece…

"…She is Sasha."

Matthew looked up from his ogling to see Marko grinning down at the Australian. "she weighs one-hundred-fifty kilograms and fires two-hundred-dollar custom-two catridges at ten-thousand rounds per minute…" the Russian leaned in close, "…it costs four-hundred-thousand-dollars to fire this weapon…" a moment for suspense, "…for twelve seconds."

The Sniper, surprisingly, looked unamused.

"Look, mate. We've all got out different ways to fight." Matthew turned around, picked up his SMG, and attached it to his belt. "You need thousands and thousands of bullets to kill one person." He placed his kukri on the other side of his belt. "All I need…" he flipped around and pulled out a single bullet from his vest, "…is one."

Marko was about to argue when the announcer's voice rang across the fort. "_Attention, Mission begins in 60 seconds!_" The two looked at each other. "Well, we'll get to see who gets more kills. The one who uses them, or the one who wastes them." Marko growled, then turned and walked over to Wolfgang to discuss their battle-plan. Matthew strolled over to the engineer, who was currently grabbing as much metal as he could carry from the supply cabinet.

"Hey Jeffery, any good places for me to snipe around here?" Jeffery continued to grab more metal scraps. "The Battlements are where most of the snipers tend to hang out. Go from here, take a left, and you'll get to a nice, open patio where you get a good look at everything. Just be mindful of the sniper across the bridge. He's gonna be able to get a good look at yah too."

"_Mission Begins in ten seconds!_" The nine soldiers took their places in front of the door.

"_5…4…3…2…1…"_ an air horn rang out, and the RED team dashed out of the supply room.

So, yeah. After this is when we'll start to get into the action part of the story. I'll see when I can get the next chapter up, but I won't make any promises, (I'm supposed to be working on a history portfolio, but instead I'm doing this). Please R&R.


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